l I had," she said. "I remembered it the other day and I found
it. A travelling photographer took it one day. He came to the village
and every one was taken, father and all. It's very bad but it was the
only one."

"It's wonderful," said Martin, and truly it was wonderful. It had
caught by a marvellous chance, in spite of its shabby faded darkness,
the very soul of Maggie. Was it her hair, her untidy hair, or the
honesty of her eyes, or the strength and trustiness of her mouth? But
then it was to any one who did not know her the bad dim photograph of
an untidy child, to any one who did know her the very stamp and witness
of Maggie and all that she was. Maggie had spent twenty-five shillings
on the locket (she had had three pounds put away from her allowance in
her drawer).

It was a very simple locket, thin plain gold round and smooth, but
good, and it would last.

"You darling," whispered Martin. "There couldn't have been anything
more like you if you'd been taken by the grandest photographer in
London."

They started off towards Shaftesbury Avenue where the theatre was, and
as they went a funny little incident occurred. They were both too happy
to talk and Maggie was too happy even to think. Suddenly she was aware
that some one was coming towards her whom she knew. She looked and
tugged herself from that world of Martin and only Martin in which she
was immersed. It was the large, smiling, rosy-cheeked, white-haired
clergyman, Mr. Trenchard. Yes, certainly it was he. He had recognised
her and was stopping to speak to her. Martin moved on a little and
stood waiting for her. She was confused and embarrassed but pleased too
because he seemed glad to see her. He looked the very picture of a
well-dressed, kindly, genial friend who had known her all his life. He
was wearing a beautifully shining top-hat and his stiff white collar
gleamed. Yes, he was glad to see her and he said so. He remembered her
name. "Miss Cardinal," he called her. How had she been? What had she
been doing? Had she seen Mrs. Mark? He was staying with his sister at
Brown's Hotel in Somewhere--she didn't catch the name of the street.
His sister would be so glad if she would come and see them one day.
Would she come? He wouldn't tie her down, but she had only to write and
say she was coming ...

He took her hand and held it for a moment and looked in her eyes with
the kindliest friendliest regard. He was glad to have seen her. He
should tell his sis